Rewind and Start Again
by MasterMind13
Summary: A followup on Sid's life after the events that occurred on that fateful day. Sid's POV.


**Since I heard about _Toy Story 4_ I wanted to get this done before the release date. I'm sure other people have written their version of Sid's reformation, but I wanted to try this out. We all know Sid appeared in the _Toy Story 3_ movie as a garbageman. (I didn't think that was him). O_O**

 **Now that I have this published I can rest easy. So, anyways, this story is told from Sid's point of view, I might have added some things he may not do, but I had to try some things. I might have rushed with the ending, but writing this story seemed like a breeze.**

 **Well, enjoy. ^_^**

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My name is Sidney Phillips. I've decided to keep a log of my personal experiences. Most of you don't know me, but you'll want to. I wasn't always what you call a "nice guy." I wasn't always put together. Wasn't as stable as I am now. But there was a time when I was rebellious, hyperactive and unstable. When I was little, I could never behave. I was always causing trouble. Getting into fights. Scaring my little sister. And just being a big pain. But one summer, after I was sent home from camp early, it happened.

You see, I used to play roughly with my toys. Well, "roughly" might using it loosely. I treated my toys like shit. I was always breaking them, burying them, burning them, giving them to my dog Scud. I even took my sister's dolls and dismembered them and gave them back to her with a dinosaur's head. But this one summer, it happened. It happened after I got a Buzz Lightyear and Woody doll from a crane game. I was about to send the Buzz action figure fly off in a firecracker when suddenly the Woody doll talked _by itself_. I was puzzled, so I picked it up. At first, I thought it was just broken, when it spat back _insults at me._

I thought I was just dreaming, but I was awake and fully alert. My toys, the others, the ones I tampered with. Two toy soldiers creeped out of the drain. A toy dump truck emerged from the sand. They were surrounding me. I felt like I was in a horror movie. Then the Woody doll turned its head around all the way, like it had been possessed by a demon. It told me to play nice—and that's when I lost it. I ran into the house in a panic, shouting about the toys coming to life. My sister Hannah chased me to my room with her doll. I locked myself in my room and stayed there. I crawled in my bed and cried. I stayed in my room for most of the day. I sat there, thinking, about what? Everything. About my behavior. About my toys. My sister. And most of all: my lifestyle.

Maybe that scare was a wake up call. Maybe it wasn't. But all I knew was that I had to change.

The day after that...scare, I scrounged around my room for the other toys I hid, and just...talked to them. I talked to them about myself, my sister, my feelings, what I wanted to be when I grew up. They didn't say anything. I was hoping they would. Maybe they found out about my scare, and that's why they didn't talk back. I sat there, feeling worse. That was the first time I felt terribly alone. For days I dwelled on the subject. I didn't bother Hannah. I didn't play much with Scud. My mother wondered about the sudden quiet. She thought maybe I was sad that I got sent back from camp early. I didn't want to tell her about the scare the toys have me. She wouldn't believe me, I wouldn't blame her. I threw away my fireworks. I put my tools back in the garage. I asked my mother to take me to a therapist. She was confused as to why I wanted to see one, but I desperately needed to see someone. When I went into the child therapy room, I panicked when I saw all the toys. My therapist asked why I was scared. I told her it was because toys were scary. I was uncomfortable. I didn't want to be there. The therapist took me to another room, the one where the adults go to. I felt better, there were no toys in there. I asked her if we can come here from now on. She didn't understand why I wanted to be here, but she was willing to oblige.

The first few weeks were tough. I was too reluctant to get near any toys. The sessions were long. Therapy wasn't enough, I had to try something else. Once school started I tried out for the track team. Running took my mind off the toys. I no longer hung out with my gang. They were disappointed. I didn't want to engage in their vandalism. I think I knew deep down that it was wrong. I cut off my old friends, went to track practice, I did my homework, I started doing better in school. My mother was surprised, she never questioned the change. I only told her I was seeing a tutor. I started being nicer to my sister. I played with Scud. A dawn to a new era in my life.

If joining a sport was the first step to a new start, then there was also change in appearance. My teeth were kinda crooked. I asked my mother if I could get braces. She said they were expensive, and that I would have to earn most of the money to help pay for them. I was okay with this. I mowed the neighbor's lawn, I ran errands for the old lady who lived down the street, I washed my mother's car. My allowance was meager, but within a year I earned enough and pooled in my savings along with mom's to pay for them. Having braces was not a walk in the park. Because of how crooked they were I had to wear headgear when I slept. The kids at school called me a nerd. I just shrugged them off, I didn't want to respond violently. I would never react violently.

When I entered middle school I joined a shop class. I was great with tools. I figured that if I could destroy with my tools, I could build with tools. The projects we did were innovative and fun. I enjoyed creating tables, chairs, shelves. My favorite creation was a birdhouse, which I still have. I hung it in a tree in my backyard. I decided it was time to give then to take. As far as friends go, I made a few close friends. I never told them about the toys scaring me. I still went to therapy, but I was still scared of toys. One day in shop, I carved a doll out of wood. After clearing the sawdust away, I held it in my hand and looked at it. I looked at its face, I carved a detailed face with high cheekbones. As I stood there, I felt something. A spark. Looking at this doll, how could I be afraid of something I made? From that day, my fears melted away. That's when I realized what I was meant for.

If I could break my toys, I could put them back together. I started working on this project immediately. I searched through my scary toys and reassembled them. I could only fix the ones I could salvage. Several parts were missing, and looking at these incomplete toys made me feel sad. I just felt worse than I already did. But there was still hope.

By the time I was in eighth grade my braces were removed. My teeth were straighter than ever. The dentist told me I would have to take better care of my teeth now. Before the braces I sometimes forgot to brush my teeth for two days at a time. Brushing my teeth was a bore, that's what I thought. But now that my teeth were straight, I vowed to make the best of everything. I brushed my teeth with whitening toothpaste and combed my hair more. I bought new clothes. I washed my face more. I was ready to show the world the new Sidney Phillips. The real Sidney Phillips.

By high school, I joined soccer. I didn't know how good I was. I won every game. I was passing my classes. I was excelling at school. I spent my free time either with Hannah, or building toys. I cobbled most of them out of the missing parts. It wasn't like when I would take them from my sister. I was taking the lost parts and making something new out of them. A made a dinosaur/doll/duck/crane thing. It was freaky, but I liked it. Heh, I figured I could make something out of it. Maybe I could be a toy maker. Or a woodcarver. Or a sculptor. The art class I was taking had us do clay sculpting. Sculpting out of clay was fun, like when you're a kid. Only you had to use hooks and stuff to make the head, the arms and the legs.

After high school I didn't know what I wanted to do. I wanted to go to college, but classes, of course, are expensive. Couldn't afford to go to a great, big fancy college. The least I could do was go to a community college, and get a job on the side. I was studying engineering. Toy making is a real science. You have to know which piece goes where and how to install it. My math skills improved over the years. I could take what I learned and apply it on the toy making. I got a job waiting tables. The pay was good and earned enough to rent an apartment for myself. I took my wooden doll and my freaky dinosaur-duck-crane thing. They grew on me. They were testaments of my milestones. The classes were easy and work was a breeze, but it was still hard balancing both. The nights were the longest, I would sit in front of a laptop, struggling to write an essay. I would look up at the shelf where I kept my two favorite toys: the wooden carving and the freaky one. I was hoping they would talk to me. Just wishing they would know that I've changed, that I'm making something of myself.

It took four years to get through every course, but I graduated. Mom and Hannah were so proud of me. My dad...he wasn't the mushy type. He and I hadn't always had a close relationship. I guess his mistreatment is what led me to take my sister's toys and destroy them. He didn't even show up to graduation. I didn't care, he wasn't worth it. I have my mom and my sister to support me. And I don't need my dad to darken my day.

I quit my job at the restaurant and got a new one at the garbage dump. I picked up trash from houses. It wasn't the most neat job, yeah, literally, it wasn't, but it was better than waiting tables. Let's just say I almost relapsed to my old violent habits while trying to cater to the customers. Picking up trash cleared my mind and helped me forget about my problems. Sometimes, if I was lucky, I would find some discarded toys and I would take them home and repair them. After I fixed them I would either sell them or keep them. I only kept the ones I really liked. Selling the repaired toys could help pay my student loans.

So there you have it. That's the big obstacle I've overcome. I know it's not much, but it was still a monumental milestone. You might think it's stupid to be scared by toys, but it happened. I'm still seeing a therapist. I've gotten better. I'm doing better. I got a job making toys for a renown company line. I have some neat ideas. Seeing the children's eyes light at the sight of a new toy bring a smile on my face. Maybe it was a good thing the toys scared me like that, because I wouldn't be where I am now. I'm proud of what I've accomplished for myself. I'm proud of the person I've become. I'm glad to be where I am and what I'm doing. There's nothing I would do to change that.

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 **I hope you all enjoyed this. I know I did. ^_^**


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